


Memorabilia

by EmeraldTawny



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-11-23 20:15:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20895482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldTawny/pseuds/EmeraldTawny
Summary: Canon divergence of Sylvain and Byleth’s A Support. Minor spoilers for dialogue.





	Memorabilia

**Author's Note:**

> ...I just wanted this to be soft, but it ended up a touch angsty. But, this is Sylvain we’re talking about soooo...welp hdjdjxkd.
> 
> Hope you enjoy~ ^w^

It was...bittersweet, to say the least.

The pain Sylvain felt burned his skin like something corrosive, gnawing at the muscles and nerves surrounding his ribs. Of all the places to get hit, he considered himself lucky - armour can certainly do wonders - but even after a patch-up from Mercedes’ healing magic, the pain remained for longer than was comfortable. Only after returning from the frontlines did his discomfort begin to subside.

Now, with a moment to breathe, he can finally free himself of his armour to get a look at the newest addition to his collection. He almost has to laugh at himself with how stilted his movements are as he removes the heavy armour concealing his chest and strips away the other layers beneath. Amidst the dilapidated books askew throughout the room, he turns towards the stained-glass window, the colourful glass still serving its purpose in reflecting his image back to him.

A long, winding scar travels across the middle of his ribcage on his right-hand side, the skin angry at Sylvain for letting another irremovable flaw mark his skin. The scar’s journey ends just above his navel, like the tail of a snake embedded permanently into his flesh. Whilst thin, the wound was still tender and he knew he would have to take it easy for the next couple of battles. Despite this, a chagrined smile quirks the corners of his lips up.

_ (Just another scar to add to the multitudes I have...but this one is my most prized possession.) _

He finds his mind drifting back to the battlefield, its oppressive, addicting atmosphere reigniting the lingering adrenaline in his body just from the thought of it. 

\---

The smoke was clawing at his lungs, the deafening cacophony of metal clashing against metal ringing uncomfortably long in his ears; even after five years, he couldn’t truly say he was used to it, more like just something he has learned to accept. 

The familiar galloping of hooves kept his mind focused as he rode on, his position to flank an archer ready to be timed with Felix’s characteristic rush forward into the thick of it all. He’d known him for long enough to know how he functions in battle and how to best support him, even when they both knew Felix was usually the only one who needed to strike to bring down a foe.

A short  _ fwip _ of air raced past his head, his eyes following its direction and greeting him with the sight of an arrow perfectly piercing a soldier right between his eyes. A look to his east and west sides find the rest of his comrades deep within their own trials of strength and skill.

And amidst it all was a flash of mint green and an accompanying twilight glow.

He had to admit that when he first met her, he didn’t expect much, even if this supposed ex-mercenary was now his Professor. But now, any moment he could spare, he would find himself studying her, both with silent awe and seething envy. Her movements were ethereal but they were far from graceful, each strike aimed to maim and ready to end any who crossed her in one swift motion. 

Was she merciful in that regard, or just too accustomed to killing that it was second nature to her? He couldn’t say, so he convinced himself that was why he keeps watching her - to discover the truth behind this enigmatic woman that has encroached too far into his heart and thoughts.

A magnificent spark of light caught his eye despite the chaos of battle, the deadly vibrant streak of blue eye-catching against the smoky backdrop. He honed in on its source, the hooded mage raising her arm and ready to strike. When Sylvain realised exactly where that lightning magic was aimed, the tumultuous roars of death and fighting surrounding him suddenly sounded submerged in the depths of water. Everything around him ceased to exist; only the damned soul trying to harm his Professor stood in his sights, and she wouldn’t be standing for much longer.

Even as he kicked his steed into a run, he knew he wouldn't be able to reach them in time. But that didn’t mean he was without options. Reaching down to the side of his saddle, Sylvain pulled a short spear free and spun it in his hand, ready to throw. He took only a second to gauge where his target was before pulling back his arm and sending the spear flying. Its trajectory was perfect, the point of the weapon impaling itself deep into the throat of the mage. With a quick pull on the reins, he changed direction to head towards Byleth, her Relic dancing like the sun as it took another life of the enemy. 

Light enveloped the desolate land for a split second - though it was more accurate to say that the light enveloped just Sylvain - and with it came immeasurable pain searing through him, the epicentre of his torment focused on his ribs. He clutched at the reins but found nothing, the world spiralling around him before the earth returned him to reality, the taste of silt and mud helping the throbbing pain beneath his armour none. 

He doesn’t remember much of what happens next, his eyes falling shut as a means to focus on dispelling the pain. But he does remember another familiar sound of metal tearing through flesh before something - someone - slumps heavily to the ground. Then, and only then, does he hear her.

_ “Sylvain!” _

\---

Her voice. A voice he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to hear again after she disappeared from the world five years ago. A voice that was usually so devoid of emotion sounding almost...scared. 

As it replays in his mind again, it seems to reverberate through him and flare his scar up with heat anew, drawing him out of the battlefield of the past and back to the more painful present. He hisses softly, redirecting his eyes back to his multi-coloured reflection in the stained glass.

“Ugh, that hurts…”

He suddenly notices a subtle shift in the reflection of the glass, only realising its true identity when the soft clicks of her footfalls filled his ears. When they stop, he takes a split second to compose himself and will away the pain before turning to face her, all smiles.

“Ah, Professor! Thanks for stopping by.”

He had a feeling someone would find him eventually, it was just a matter of who and when. And if he was being honest with himself, her timing couldn’t have been any better.

_ (My shirt is off and we’re both completely alone here...you can’t blame a guy for letting his mind wander even a little bit right now.) _

Although, the way her jade eyes flit down to his chest doesn’t heat up her cheeks like he secretly hoped they would. Her unyielding gaze instead succeeds in heating  _ him _ up, his scar practically searing under her gaze. With a blink, her eyes are back on his face and Sylvain doesn’t know if he’s imagining the almost imperceptible waver in her stoic eyes, or if his mind is only conjuring up an image he wants to see.

“You got hurt protecting me…”

He wasn’t imagining it. There wasn’t even an attempt to mask the emotion in her voice. Sadness? Guilt? Maybe even a thread of anger? Whatever it was, he didn’t like seeing her this way; what few emotions she would express on her face, Sylvain wanted to ensure that they were only pleasant in nature. Seeing her look so sad and knowing that he was the cause...it hurts more than it should.

“It’s not that bad,” He feigns indifference with a shrug, though his smile tightens slightly at the sudden crescendo of pain, almost like it’s mocking him for putting up a front, “I was even told I’d be cleared for service starting tomorrow.”

Her eyes move back down to his scar and Sylvain swears he can feel the path her eyes carve out across his skin. But her eyebrows remain taut, unconvinced.

A sudden idea wills him to move before his mind can even think it through. Before he can stop himself, he steps forward, needing only a couple of strides before stopping to stand in front of his Professor. He reaches out to her and grabs her hand, the cool metal of her wrist guards opening his eyes at how abrupt and idiotic this plan is. But Sylvain was in too deep to back out now. He pulls her hand and she follows, guiding her fingertips to his chest. She hesitates, as she rightfully should, her hand hovering over his scar, the pink inflammation surrounding the wound flaring its warning to her. But, after a moment, she moves her hand to trace a single fingertip over the skin.

Sylvain feels no pain when she touches him; in truth, he can barely feel anything around his wound. But her touch - a phantom touch so light and oddly tender, especially considering the woman it comes from - sends electricity through his nerves and replaces his blood with magma. He can feel his fingers tremble against the back of the hand still in his grip, but thankfully she doesn’t seem to notice, too enraptured with following the scar’s path from beginning to end.

“Do you believe me now, Professor?”

His voice is calm and knowing, his usual smile widening slightly as she turns her gaze back to his face. He sends her a cheeky wink.

“Besides, I got this scar fighting for you. It’s almost like a medal or something.”

_ (And you won’t realise just how true those words are.) _

She falls silent, as she so often does, and just stares back at him. He almost wants to smile at the gears in her head turning, but he manages to stop himself. 

“Then, at least let me dress the wound.”

“...Huh?”

His hand falls from its grip on hers as she moves away to grab the bandages perched on the desk behind them. He only has time to blink in shock before she returns, but he regains his senses when she reaches a hand out to touch him again.

“W-wait, wait!” He grabs her wrist, letting a rough exhale leave him when he realises how on edge he is, “I can patch myself up, you know. I’ve done it myself countless times.”

She doesn’t budge. “Allow me this, since you saved me out there.”

His teeth clench behind his close-lipped smile and he thinks desperately for a way out of...whatever this was. All he knew was that if she touched him again, it wouldn’t be good.

“I didn’t save you, Professor. I was just targeting anyone I could.” 

He’s almost disgusted at himself at how easily the lie is breathed from his lips. Byleth says nothing.

“I don’t blame you for getting confused. It was probably Annette or maybe Ingrid that saved you. I wouldn’t go that far out of my way to--”

“Sylvain.”

He instantly stiffens and straightens his posture, a subconscious reflex. Even after all these years, the response to that tone of voice is still hardwired into his brain. Her eyes mirror the hard edge her voice carried, her gaze unmoving as if staring down her cornered prey. Sylvain knew that look all too well, considering the amount of times he was called to stay back after test scores were returned, and all he can do is smile and sigh.

“Can’t say no to my darling Professor, can I?”

Resigning himself, Sylvain raises his arms and links his fingers together at the back of his neck in his usual way, flaunting his chest just that little bit more. She doesn’t respond, her focus on unwrapping the bandage. And once again, it’s him that gets flustered despite his efforts, his mind internally screaming at him when she touches her soft palm against his chest as she begins to wrap the scar.

_ (You’re an idiot, Sylvain! She’s the proprietor of the Goddess! She probably doesn’t even realise you’re wooing her! ...Does she even know I’m wooing her? And, wait...why am I this invested?!) _

His inner argument distracts him enough from most of her touches, but warmth still seeps into him. It was...odd. That is, he didn’t expect it to feel so light, so comforting. He has always envisioned holding a woman in his arms as being a necessary yet ultimately annoying chore, but he felt like he would actually enjoy holding her against him; basking in her warmth, getting lost in her scent, the soft, suppleness of her skin beneath his palms--

He loosens one hand to grab the roots of his hair and yanks hard. A low grunt of pain leaves him, causing Byleth to move her eyes up to him while her hands remain diligent in patching him up.

“Does it hurt?”

“Heh, nope. Not at all.” 

He laughs, but even he can hear how unconvincing he sounds. His forced smile fades as he watches her work, her hands reserved but thorough in their caresses as she pulls the bandage around his chest, each succession concealing the scar - his prize - bit by bit.

“...Are you happy?”

Her voice cuts through the silence between them, the disruption making him tense. He looks down to meet her eyes, their gaze on him holding his attention rapt. He takes a moment to swallow before he answers.

“I don’t think anyone would be happy about getting a scar, Professor.”

Her lips purse together ever so slightly before opening again to reiterate her question.

“Are you happy you protected me?”

Her fingers glide across his back as she passes the bandage to her other hand and it takes everything within him to keep from shivering. He ponders the question, wondering if it really is as simple as saying that, yes, he is. He really,  _ really _ is.

“I don’t know. I think I am.”

Her hands still and she meets his eyes again, a silent prompt to add onto his noncommittal answer. Sylvain smiles, the softness of it completely unbeknown to him.

“All I know is...when I thought you were going to be killed for real, my reflexes kicked in. I reacted without thinking.”

_ (Everything went blank when I saw you in danger. I’ve never felt anything like it, even when the same thing has happened to me...so why did I feel it with you?) _

He knows the answer deep down, but he begs his heart to deny it; for if he admits it now, he truly believes he will never recover. Of course, his body has other ideas, his hand moving to curl his fingers around the back of her hand, holding it against his chest. He feels her fingers twitch under his touch and he feels the useless organ in his chest mimic the sensation, the warmth spreading through him too addicting to relinquish despite him knowing he shouldn’t yearn for this.

“Thank you, Professor. Seriously. Thank you.”

He feels her other hand come to rest against the back of his own and he expects her to pull his hand off of her. But curiously, she leaves it there...and does nothing else. Sylvain holds his breath, but even after he finds the strength in himself to breathe again, she’s still there. He dares to look down at her face, curiosity and hope mingling together for what expression she’ll be making. Her face is tilted down away from his gaze, her eyelashes casting shadows against her cheeks. 

But despite her attempts to hide it, it’s there. A tiny smile, infinitely dazzling despite its size, Sylvain realises.

_ (...This is bad.) _

He closes his eyes with a silent sigh and pulls his hand free, choosing to ignore the weight in his chest at losing her warmth. When he reopens his eyes, her stoic face is staring back at him, as if that moment of emotion never happened.

“I think I can take care of it myself from here. I appreciate the help, though.”

With only a nod, she turns to leave and a part of Sylvain wonders if her feet are carrying her quickly away from him because he made things awkward, or because of something else entirely. 

The quiet of the room settles in around him, her presence lingering in his mind even as he begins to put his armour back on. The stained-glass window turns the white bandage pink in his reflection and suddenly he can’t fight back the smile on his lips.

_ (I think I’m in trouble. I didn’t think anyone could delve this deep into my thoughts, my emotions, my feelings, and just make them so perfectly theirs.) _

Despite the melancholic edge to his thought, his smile dims none and he returns his chest piece to its rightful place, protecting the carefully wrapped scar beneath.

If he was truly honest with himself, Sylvain thought a lot about his Professor over the five years between then and now. Most sleepless nights, he would find her drifting through his thoughts, wondering what she was doing or if she was even aware of the chaos throughout the lands. He never once doubted she was gone. It was a thought he never dared to entertain, for his own sanity more than anything else. But when she did come back, just as she promised - like they all promised - and not looking a day different from when he last saw her...it suddenly made those agonising years of suffering and turmoil just that little bit easier to handle.

He finishes readjusting his armour and breathes out an exhausted sigh. But before he turns to go, he takes a moment to cautiously touch his fingers to the hidden pocket by his hip. He traces the circular edge of the hidden treasure through the fabric of his pants, nodding once at it still being where it should be, and then leaving the room as nonchalantly as he came in.

_ (When everything is over, I’ll be honest. With you, and with myself.) _


End file.
